There's always hope
by Daniele-Marx
Summary: My brief take on the [equally brief] hours before Coach found them on the bus in Motel California. s3e6


Scott had calmed down considerably, emotionally drained. The haze from the fire burned is eyes, the smell of gasoline strong on his clothes. In a slight panic he scrambled to his feet, heart racing and blood pumping in his ears. A stitch in his side made him aware of the gas seeping into his wound. The pain was more prominent than the smell invading his senses.

It gave him clarity.

He couldn't smell, but he could hear and see well enough. He focused on the heartbeat of Stiles first, but his was almost always racing, and though he couldn't really explain what happened to him not ten minutes ago, he was certain Stiles would be up all night with that pulse.

Stiles was up and Lydia sat there staring at the diminishing fire, and he helped her stand. She stood with him, calmly touching his arm. Whether it was for his or her benefit, she wasn't really sure, but Lydia knew she did it for comfort. But she spoke again. "We can't stay in the motel tonight." Stiles nodded.

"We'll stay in the bus." Allison's voice was barely vocal, but she was heard. Scott stared straight ahead, not really feeling good about that. Not without Boyd and Isaac. Allison was at his side then, veering him them further from the spill. She grazed his arms and pulled him towards her. They leaned to touch foreheads, and Allison's fingers dug into his shirt. She was crying through the fumes, breaths coming in short gasps. He could feel her heart in her hands, against his head, and he calmed knowing the danger was over. She'd been terrified, but only for a moment. They held themselves together, together. There's always hope, he remembered in the haze.

"We need to get Boyd and Isaac out." Stiles. Scott nodded, and his body stilled. Allison felt more than watched him pull away, and he was in leader mode. Maybe the flicker of red she saw in his eyes the other night wasn't just him reacting. Maybe he was taking charge the only way he knew how.

"Allison, you get Lydia and-" Allison's eyes steeled and Scott heard her heart race. The look in her eyes told him that they needed to think, even in the pain of desperation. He knew he was going to cave already.

"We're going with you. No one goes alone tonight." He hesitated, and nodded. He could feel his wits coming back to him, and reason won out. A glance to Allison. There's always hope. But not hope that Allison would stay behind. And Lydia was too curious and strong to let that go. She may not have wanted to go back in, but she wanted them safe and together just as bad as Scott.

"Fair enough." Stiles sighed and nodded as well. They were stronger in the pack.

"Isaac was hiding under the bed in their room. Boyd was in the bathroom. Both were pretty out of it when we came to find you." Scott's lips tightened but he turned and started towards the motel again. It wasn't where he wanted to go, and it scared him more than anything, but he thought about Boyd and Isaac succumbing to the torture like him. His blood began to churn in anger. If he had to, he'd go on the hunt for every wolfsbane plant in the state and burn each to the ground.

Nothing would make him happier. Scott took point and started toward the motel, picking up the pieces of his psyche along the way. Allison followed suit, giving Stiles and Lydia a grateful glance.

Stiles turned to Lydia, stiff in the neck. She looked up at him and smiled sadly. "That was very brave, what you did." He nodded and swallowed, losing himself a bit in her eyes. Then a playful gleam shone in the light, and her lips quirked sardonically. "Don't scare me like that again." And she turned on her toes and followed Scott and Allison. He paused, the cogs catching for a moment at her sincerity, and threw his hands up.

"Really?" Then he jogged to keep up, a small smirk playing on his lips. Leave it to Lydia to frustrate him to no end in the face of adversity.

Scott was fighting the limp in his body. His side ached less now that he was sure, or at least mostly sure, the stitches hadn't been torn. He thanked Allison again for her hard work. He didn't think he'd ever forget.

When they reached the motel room, Scott stepped in alone. Boyd sniffed and turned in horror to see Scott's gasoline-soaked body. It may have smelled bad to the others, but to him it was pungent and terrifying. "Hey Boyd." He went to the young man pulling himself together still, and held out his hand to help him up. Boyd stared, then took the offer, getting to his feet. "We're sleeping on the bus," he told Boyd and maybe Isaac, if he could hear his voice.

Stiles said, "It was wolfsbane." Boyd nodded in understanding. Derek might have told him, but if he didn't know what wolfsbane could do, he did now.

"Stronger together," Scott added.

"Only if you take a shower." Scott couldn't stop the smirk. "You okay?"

"I'll be okay." There's always hope. He could hear Allison's voice in his head, and he could hear Stiles's heartbeat. His best friend was going to be up all night he could tell. If they didn't get to the bus soon he'd lose his mind. He knew his initial response to this place was to be an optimist. Scott was wrong about this place. Anything, even uncomfortable plastic seats with uncomfortable angles, was better than staying in these nightmarish rooms. "Isaac, you're safe now. You can come out." He mentally counted to five for an answer, and bounced on his toes a bit. Isaac was haunted by his father. Damage from years of abuse took a long-term toll on people, he read that in a book somewhere, so he wasn't just going to drag the guy out from a safe place.

Scott did what the others had done, got to one knee and lifted the blanket. He could smell the fear before he saw it, and his stitched side strained. He wondered if the simple act of kneeling would undo Allison's good work. They were all tired and as much as Scott didn't want to pull his stitches out and start bleeding into his gasoline-soaked shirt, he wanted Isaac safe on the bus more than anything. Scott stood up slowly and spared a grateful glance to Allison, and asked Stiles to help him with the mattress.

"Isaac, we're pulling the mattress and box spring up." Stiles grabbed the side Scott indicated and pulled up. The mattress was light but feeble, and they leaned it up against the wall. They took the box spring next, and before they knew it, they were looking down at the curled body of Isaac. Stiles swallowed hard and stepped into the frame space.

"You know, you look as terrified as Scott smells." Isaac loosened a bit and looked at broken Scott, then sullen Boyd, who was standing a few feet closer to the door, and finally optimistic Stiles. Boyd shook off whatever stuck him in place, and stepped closer to his friend, reaching out his hand. Isaac stared much like Boyd stared at Scott, and slowly took his hand. Everyone in the room seemed to let out a sigh of relief, and they waited in the room for Scott to take his shower.

"I can take a shower alone." A look from everyone in the room said for him to do it now and hurry up, so he did. They heard him struggle with the plugged drain but eventually the water was draining. Stiles waited close to the door, trying not to check up on him regularly. When he did, Lydia touched his arm and calmed him. He sighed and went back to waiting, trying to stand very still and listen closely. He thought about the offer to make him into a werewolf, how he turned the offer down. If he'd been turned, tonight would've gone much differently. It was a sobering thought, and Stiles gripped Lydia's hand on his arm. When Scott reappeared, his clothes smelled just as bad, but he smelled human again at least.

"Thanks for waiting. Lets get out of here." Isaac and Boyd led the way, with Lydia and Allison centered, and Stiles stuck with Scott bringing up the rear. The fire was mostly burned out when they reached the parking lot, and they walked by it as though there were better things on tv. Isaac and Boyd exchanged looks but said nothing, just made their way to the safest place in the vicinity. Stiles stared at the dying light, his lips tight. His best friend was safe again, and he stood between Scott and the memory as he walked, one step ahead. "Thanks, Stiles," said Scott. Stiles slapped him lightly on the back.

"You're welcome." They entered the bus, Isaac and Boyd first taking the farthest and seats least likely to attract unwanted attention, then Allison and Lydia, and Stiles helped Scott up the stairs last, Stiles taking the seat across from Lydia. He wanted to go over some of the details of the wolfsbane from his banter, and Lydia seemed too tired to fight it. Scott took the seat in front of Stiles. If anyone dangerous came in, Scott was prepared to do something first, even if it meant breaking his wounds open. His heart sped up at the thought, and the two other werewolves picked up on it.

"Scott, you going to be okay up there?"

"Yeah, fine. If something comes in, get everyone out the back." Boyd grunted in response.

They settled in. Scott listened to their heartbeats calm. It was comforting, soothing. His pack was together. No one talked, and he couldn't really sleep. He was too disturbed to do that yet, so he closed his eyes and listened to the lullaby of the breathing and beats. Stiles was still strung out, his insomnia terrible, but he quieted down after a while. His heart calmed more when he felt Allison's eyes on him. Scott would look after the pack, and they would look after him. There's always hope.


End file.
